


The Edge of Everything

by galaxybornhearts



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: A Lot. - Freeform, But I don't think I care this time, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I apologize in advance, I don't know this thing called "How to Tag", I have no regrets, I probably got so many things wrong, Self-Indulgent, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, there's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxybornhearts/pseuds/galaxybornhearts
Summary: (I don't know how to summary, guys. Sorry)





	The Edge of Everything

Chapter 1- The Sea Wolf

The pounding of the ocean waters against the hull of the Wolf was home, the spray of salt and sun his mother’s caress. The cry of gulls was a lullaby and fighting anthem all at once. From up in the rigging, Nicola could see everything for miles, even the backs of the dragons cresting for air alongside orca pods. The only thing possibly spoiling the view was Derek, ant-sized down below and still shouting orders in that voice he hated. As Derek cranes his head back, swiveling on his neck like a dragon wouldn't even be able to to manage, Nico stares down. He can't see the sneer, but he swears it's there, outlined in his sunburned face as his half brother calls up into the mizzenmast that if he stayed up there much longer, maybe he'd fly away with the rest of the sea rats. 

It's strange, how different they look from each other. Derek inherited their mother's burnable skin, Nico his father's invincible, ever darkening tones. Nico was the taller of the pair, more lean muscle where Derek was heavily built. But one thing was the same. The glacier blue eyes set into their faces, Derek's cold and unforgiving, Nicola's warm with life and laughter. Nico thinks it's one of the reasons he was their mother's favorite. Even now, two years after she is gone, he can still feel her spirit urging him on from Valhalla, that troublemaker's glint to her gaze that Nico used to treasure.

Then, it comes into view. What the ship has sailed for, what Derek has been gloating about for the three weeks they've been at sea (between heaving over the rail, of course). A tiny little island nestled along the curve of the horizon. Nico takes the fraying rope in his hands, ignoring the sting of bits embedding themselves in calloused palms and tosses himself over the edge, free falling for a brief moment. For the space of a breath, he is the dragons he has so long admired. But then, the rope in his hands catches him. He slides down the length, landing crouched on the deck as he aims a roguish smile at his rat of a half brother. “Land.”

At the word, the crew bursts into motion. There are orders for sails to be loosed for more speed, half the crew down below to settle in on the oars. The deck is chaos benefiting Loki, and Nico can't help the smallest gleam of pride to his smile. He'd done this with a single word. The boy, nineteen and not quite out of the realm of young man and into adult, scrambles up the rigging again, rising above all the little crew in their frenzied scurrying.

He forgets them for a heartbeat, long enough to let his smile fade and to turn his face to the sea and sun. To his peace, and destruction of it looming in front like a stormcloud sky. Berk. He can feel tension infuse his limbs just at the thought, and he forces himself to relax. How bad could this be? Sure, they could not see Derek for the snake in the brush he truly was, but that was it. That had to be it.

He blows out a bellows breath, and in time with his sigh a roar pierces the air. Nicola's head jerks up, eyes wide as he calls with fevered panic to his tone, “Hit the deck!” The dragons fly close enough that Nico is nearly buffeted off the rigging, wings drawing great thunderous claps in his ears. The saddles escape his notice, the shouts of jubilation lost on him. He clings to the ropes for dear life through the shock waves generated by the motion of dragon wings as his crew members, his friends, dive for cover. The ship sinks lower in the water at the tremendous weight of the dragons that set down on the slick wooden planks. 

Nico is the first to see the people on the back, even having missed them before. 

He slides down the mast, careful to stay hidden as a helmeted figure dismounts from the back of...it can't possibly. In his shock, his drawn axe is forgotten in his hanging hand. His grip loosens. The weapon clatters to the deck, the surface still heaving softly with the new addition of weight. There is silence. No one moves, Berkian or crewmate. No one dares. It is Nico who murmurs to the ocean air and listening ears, “Peace until war.” 

Twenty five other men each murmur as they slowly stand from their places, “Yes, Captain.” The twenty seventh bristles. How dare these men address his bastard half brother as their captain, when it was Derek who held that mark. Derek who held the chief's heir. Derek who would be the one to rule their lives the moment he married Nezayla.

Nico doesn't make a move to pick up his axe, his gaze glued to the glistening black hide and inquisitive eyes of the dragon he'd only heard legends about. The armored figure that had slid down from its back doesn't shift, doesn't say a word, as Nico creeps closer, hand outstretched before him in a gesture of peace. At the first sign of the Night Fury's lips pulling back from his teeth, Nico freezes. Lowers his gaze. It's like a scene from a painting, one that would be thrust into being later by a frenzied artist among his crew. Their captain of heart if not title, and the Night Fury curiously sniffing his hand before the great beast nudges him. 

Nico lifts his head then, a grin splitting his lips as he whispers once more to the dead silence, “Hello, Toothless.”

The Night Fury tilts it's massive head, inspects this newcomer. It's rider does the same in silence, arms crossed over their chest. Nico slowly stands, careful not to disrupt the careful alliance of serenity between he and the Night Fury not three feet from him. And it suddenly strikes him that despite the imposing figure they make from below, Toothless’ rider is not very big, or very tall. He dips his head in respectful recognition, a smile on his lips. “And you must be the talk of the Archipelago, Nezayla.”

The mask doesn't move, but a voice comes from behind it. Wavering slightly, as if in surprise as she says instead, “It's Newt.”

Nico restrains another smile as he amends, “Newt, then. An honor to meet the greatest hero in the century.”

Derek chooses that moment to show himself from behind a barrel, straightening, face slightly green, and with great pretense dusting off his dress clothes. Who wore those types of things sailing, Nico didn't know. But a soft sigh leaves his lips as he steps to the side. “And this, I believe, is who you're looking for. Derek, Newt. Newt, Derek. Toothless, Derek. Derek, Toothless.” 

Nico casts a single glance toward the rest of the riders that had landed with Newt and remarks, “I'd introduce you all to the crew of the Wolf, but unfortunately I don't have your names.”

The joking statement that isn't all a joke earns a few scattered laughs, but it's enough. Enough to release the tension, thick enough to cut with a butter knife, between the two opposing groups. 

At least until Derek scoffs and doesn't bother with a civil greeting, just says with that insufferable air of his, “Newt? How ridiculous. Nezayla much more suits someone of your station.” 

Nico goes tense just as Toothless’ low growl ripples through the still ocean air. The formerly at ease Night Fury is pressed against Newt's side, and halfway wedged in the ample space between half brothers Nico and Derek. It doesn't make sense, but he doesn't have time to ponder it. Nico forces his voice even, cheerful as he grits out, “Berk has done us quite a favor with the alliance, Derek. Try not to destroy it so soon.”

Nico's just healing bruises ache with the cutting look Derek levels at him, but it's worth it as Derek clears his throat, every word sharp as glass. “I suppose my bastard brother has gotten something right for once. Accept my most sincere apologies,” Derek pauses, as if holding back the word before almost spitting it out like it left a bitter taste on his tongue, “Newt.”

Nico moves to softly voice a real apology of his own for Derek's behavior, but when he looks up, he finds himself bereft of words. While Nico's attention had been drawn into corralling his brother's dismal people skills, and general assholery, Newt has removed her helm and settled it under arm. She is beautiful. He wishes beautiful was a word that could even start to cover it. Her braided hair is strung topaz, her eyes sunlight through amber, her skin the hue of golden dawn. She is...a goddess. 

Her looks have stunned more than one crew member, most speechless and staring. Her gaze, sharp as a hunting dragon's, has stilled others. That same gaze ignores Derek for a breath, instead sweeping Nicola's form. There's a sudden, unexplainable burst of self consciousness as he remembers very vividly the stain from bird crap on his shoulder, the way the salt and constant wear has faded the fabric, the loosening seam of his pants. It fades as Newt drawls, face blank except for the smallest smile on her lips, “Bastard? Looks more like a viking than you do. More like a chief. And he's got better manners too.”

Nico blinks at her as Derek fumes in silence, the crew of the Wolf hiding snickers behind their hands. Nice to know even the savage saw what they did, that Nicola was more a chief than his older brother. After it settles, even Nico has to forcibly restrain a bark of laughter at the identical look of smug satisfaction on rider and dragon's faces.

Derek reaches up a hand to strike Nico, and thinks better of it as he claps him hard on the shoulder instead, fingers digging in with a force that would leave another set of bruises. “We've still got a deadline. Get us to Berk by noon.”

Even through the sharp burst of pain, Nico brings a lazy finger to his forehead in sarcastic salute as he remarks, “Aye, Captain.” He prys Derek's fingers from his shoulder, resists the urge to either flinch or strike out, he can't tell. As he turns to walk away, a hand, slimmer than Derek's and gloved, closes around his wrist. A flight of heat races up his arm, and twenty five of Nico's crewmates freeze, waiting for the end.

All of them knew better than to touch Nicola without his permission, unless you were Derek, who'd beaten him into submission a while ago. But most of them had the decency to remember what he'd gone through with Wilym, and had the decency to ask. 

Nico's voice lacks the normal steadiness as he croaks, “Off.”

It surprises him when Newt's fingers leave his wrist. It surprises him even more when Newt steps close and stares him in the face, head cocked like he's a mystery she's committing herself to solving. “What's your name?” Even a question, the words carry the same authority as an order.

Nico swallows hard, pastes on a roguish grin as he leans forward, close to her ear to whisper, “Nico.” He takes a step back, and loops his thumbs in his belt loops. “See you on the harbor, Newt.” His heart hammers a frenzied drumbeat in his chest, pounding on his ribcage with an unrelenting vengeance. And yet, it finally feels like he can breathe, having his space as his own again. He can almost see the flurried thoughts crowding on him. Why hadn't he lashed out at her? What had stopped him?

He wishes he knew.


End file.
